


A Song of Ice and Magic

by BastianStAmans



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastianStAmans/pseuds/BastianStAmans
Summary: The Night King has defeated Durmstrang with his army of inferi and just a few survivors have been able to escape and warn the other magic schools. Robb Stark and his family manage to reach to allies from all over the world to stop the dead, while facing enemies within their own lines.This is a crossover fic between the Game of Thrones (TV) universe and the Harry Potter (books) one. The two universes collide so I'll jump from one "map" to another. The Tyrell's are in Beauxbatons, the Martell's are from Castelobruxo, the Lannister's are from Ilvermorny and the rest I'll be sorting out as I go.In the first couple of episodes I will set the plot so it'll take a couple to start developing the relationships and +18 scenes I have in mind, bear with me 'til then.





	A Song of Ice and Magic

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time writing in quite a while and keep in mind English is not my first language so if you see any mistake or an awkward phrase please do let me know in the comments. Suggestions for the plot or development of characters are well received aswell, I'll be making this as I go so i'd love to hear from your reactions.

Despite his undying, and therefore redundant, wish of facing death, he forced himself to open his eyes. A pale blue sky was staring back at him, the exact same color of Bjorn's eyes. Thinking of Björn sent a wave of pain through his chest. Or was it the fact that a whole wall from Durmstrang had fell over him? Whether it was the memory of his probably dead boyfriend or a severe injury, he managed it didn't matter now.

 

All around him it was calm and quiet. No screams, no rattle, no army of Inferi destroying everything and everyone that crossed their way. Only a vast green vale and a sky that started to bleed different tones of orange and pink due to the sunrise. If only he could die there, that would be both ironic and beautiful.

 

He figured he had taken one too many minutes of relax so his will to die was put on ice. He tried to stand up but quitted half way, only achieving to sit uncomfortably. No more than fifty people surrounded him. Out of almost five hundred, fifty survivors. He took his hand to his chest, mainly for the pain rather than for dramatic reaction purposes. A couple of feet away, one of his older brothers, Rorik, was helping stop the bleeding from a guy's neck, nervously checking around probably to see if he could spot any of his siblings. Even farther from Rorik, Koll was studying if his ankle was broken or it was just swollen, he was covered in so much blood he seemed to be ginger instead of blond.

 

It was no mystery that Durmstrang was located in the deepest part of the North, a free-land were no one gave a rat's ass who did what. An army of inferi of those magnitudes was a whole different story. One does not just bump into an army of dead people out of bad luck. A violent chill shook him to the core, whether from the cold or the memory of the dead burying their swords and axes in the flesh of the living.

 

A rough set of hands grabbed him by the shoulders, accompanied by a rough voice. "Up, now! Now, Kyros, now!" Apparently his brother Brutus was alive. Of course he was. He was the tallest, strongest, most muscular and savage man Kyros had ever seen in his life, apart from Björn. And unlike the rest of the survivors, Brutus was almost smiling. As if the (lost) battle against the dead had just been a fun warm-up exercise.

 

"Did you see their eyes? Colder than the fucking Frozen Lake from school." He had his wand in one hand and an axe in the other and, to Kyros disgust, a blue bony hand attached to nobody was also holding the weapon. He sounded sort of fascinated by the… _things_ that had attacked them. "Any of our bros made it out?" Kyros gave him a cold look and pointed into Rorik's direction with his head, hoping he would leave him either to recover or bleed to death _alone_.

 

***

Robb Stark strutted down Hogwarts' halls as if he owned the damned school, which he kind of did. He was a prefect for Gryffindor, most likely to be Head Boy next year, and a perfect track record. He was also the Headmaster's son so most of his classmates and some of the teachers treated him like royalty.

 

All in all, being Robb Stark was a full-time job and an exhausting one. He was the heir to an ancestral house and he had a heavy weight over his shoulders if he wanted to fill his father's shoes. Ned Stark's office was exactly were he was heading to. He just couldn't do it anymore. The crazy schedule, the muggle combat training lessons, the Occlumancy lessons, it was too damn much. Neither Jon nor Sansa were expected to score as many good grades and achievements as it was expected from him, and he felt he didn't spare time just simply to be.

 

So focused he was on the speech he had in mind for his father that he almost bumped into him when they met in one corridor. Robb smiled nervously but he instantly erased the smirk from his face. His father looked slightly pale, brows furrowed in confusion. "Fath- Lord Stark." He corrected himself just in time. Their eyes met, same shade of blue, different concerns in mind. "I was just looking for you, can we…?"

 

His father interrupted him with a harsh and severe tone, as he speeded up his pace. "Not now, Robb." A scroll of parchment firmly grabbed in his hand. "I- I need to…" He stopped abruptly a few feet passed his son. What did he need? What should his next move be? Who should he warn?

 

In all of his years, Robb had never seen his father so…nervous? Anxious? No, _worried_. This could only mean very bad news. Ned Stark never wore his emotions on his sleeve. He had always stressed that to Robb. In order to become a Lord there were certain feelings that needed to be suppressed. Fear and worry were a few of those.

 

"What? Tell me." The younger Stark reach the oldest and spoke with a firm voice. Feeling a little childish for his former dismay about his tight schedule. He could tell his father was scrutinizing his face, wondering if he could trust in such a young boy like him. "Is there really anyone that you trust more than me? Tell me."

 

After a few seconds, Ned Stark spoke almost in a whisper, as if he did not dare to say what he had read on the letter he was holding, because saying them out loud made them a reality. "Durmstrang has fallen literally to its cornerstones. An army larger than the whole North altogether. And army of blue-eyed inferi. Winter is here."


End file.
